The Lines Are Our Friends

I can’t draw, God knows I’ve tried but I’ve given up on it.

Whatever wiring in my brain that would make this happen did not happen for me.

But I have discovered this great new hobby  where I can KIND of draw- color books!

The first color books for adults ( wow that sounds bad ) that I became aware of concerned swear words- I have those. You can color them and finish a page in less then a half hour, so I haven’t colored in those  books yet.

I prefer the ones that take time, I  know you can use pencil strokes and different things to get different results but for now I just like to sort of kick back and have fun:
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I like how the pictures you can color are sort of a mess of doodles around the subject – I think that was pretty smart of the artist who created the book.

That way you can feel like you’re creating something too.

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I never used to like stuff like this- I just found it confusing.

The mess of colors and lines, I just got lost in it.

20160214_230957.jpgI’ve since learned that  this is the point to art and pictures like this.

I’ve also learned coloring is fun and I’m hoping I keep having fun doing it, I hope I get to my swear coloring books soon and that I find that perfect set of pencils soon.

But to still, I wish I could draw.

It’s magical to me.

Reflections

Daily Prompt

The Young and the Rested

When was the last time you felt truly rejuvenated and energized? What made you feel that way?

I have had some jump out of bed, scream bloody murder, scare the cats up the curtain nightmares.

I love those dreams

The colors in those dreams are vibrant the images are well defined and the faces and the places are new to me so the sense of being lost and disoriented are so intense I can feel it for days.

After I have those dreams I have tons of new writing material and I can feel the endorphin rush for hours after I wake up.

I’m a junkie for those dreams, its so bad that when I have normal dreams where nothing happens I actually feel cheated out of a nights sleep and I’ll grumble to myself for hours.

The last dream I had involved my house being filled with mirrors.

I went from Mirror to mirror but I couldn’t see my reflection.

I came across one of those door sized mirrors in a heavy silver frame and there I was looking back at myself.

Finally.

I put my hands against the glass, rested my forehead  against it’s icy cold (?) coolness

 and tried to catch my breath.

I looked up when I  the heard screaming, horrible gut wrenching screaming.

” She has my face!” my reflection was screaming at me from the other side of the glass as she pounded on the glass and started to crack it ” That woman  HAS MY FACE!”

I woke up from that one feeling like I could have run from one end of the State to the other and when I was done headed for Canada.

A Few Things I’ve Learned From Death & Horror

I’ve learned some valuable things about the world from being a Mortician and writing Horror Stories.

Here are a few of them:

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Dead men do tell tales, they tell them all of the time.

You just have to be willing to listen.

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Horror Stories are like Love Stories minus the pretense.

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I hate The Lord of the Ring Movies…I’d rather watch a Twilight  ( the tween Vampire movies ) Marathon then sit the Lord Of The Ring Movies. I’d rather shove a fork in my eye. There’s no reason for that to be on this list. I just felt like putting that here.

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When you’re embalming bodies you get super thirsty. So drink a lot of water before you embalm. I’m not kidding.

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When I write a story about Death, or The Devil or Cannibals I get my best ideas after watching shows like Cake Wars or Chopped because the contestants on those shows would take their Moms down for that Ten Thousand Dollar prize.

Bastards.

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Never, ever write about the Dead if you have a funeral background. It’s unseemly.

The living are fair game.

Fair.

Game.

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I’m sorry, but I’ve learned this to be  true:  If you’re writing a horror story and you’re not laughing  I’d say you’re not connecting with your writing. How can I say that? Come on. You’re getting away with murder or something anti-social or wicked

 Even if it’s just in your head.

It’s enough to make one positively giddy.

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I listen to Tom Waits  before I write. Sometimes ABBA. Does that surprise you?  That’s probably why I can do the same when I write.

Word.